


to save your love

by softsocky



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, M/M, Muteness, Past Child Abuse, dongmin doesnt think anyone loves him but actually everyone really does including ME, i love this cliche trope im sorry, the mutism au that no one asked for but ya'll are getting bc i couldnt help myself, theres a few warnings and a fair amount of swearing, violence (not too graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/pseuds/softsocky
Summary: Dongmin doesn't speak. Bin talks enough for the both of them.





	to save your love

**Author's Note:**

> title from paper crown by alec benjamin

The doctors weren’t sure why it had started, but that’s only because Dongmin hadn’t _told_ them. _He_ knew why – he was smart enough to know the consequences of trauma. He knew that any prolonged exposure to physical or emotional abuse could lead to severe mental complications. It just so happened that _his_ had started in middle school, extending into his first few years of secondary school – up until the start of his third year there, when his stepfather drunkenly ran a red light, crashing into the side of a government building, and prosecuted accordingly. In the process of it all, Dongmin’s mother finally got the emotional standing to file for a divorce from the man who had caused both her and her son so much terror.

It was about one year after the hitting began that Dongmin stopped talking. He was twelve, thirteen maybe, when he felt the blow of a fist for the first time. He was always a slender child, a bit taller than the others, but he had reached puberty _well_ before any of them. But his slender frame and feminine features made way for relentless bullying from his peers, and just as he begun to defend himself at school, his mother remarried. This man, although at first seemingly harmless, became the figure in Dongmin’s nightmares, and then he _escaped_ his nightmares, and lived in his waking life, too. The hitting was mild at first; slaps and light pushes and shoves. Then they developed into something more as he got older, as his body stayed slender and not muscular, as his face stayed pretty and not into something handsome enough for his stepfather to be proud of.

By the time he had disappeared from his life, the damage had already been done. Dongmin had learned that talking back meant more violence, and standing up for himself meant more torment and snide comments from his peers. He never listened to much of what they said to him, he knew their value was very little, and the reason they did these things to him was because they themselves were incredibly troubled. But the one thing they said to him, over and over again, stayed with him till this very day: _“Stay quiet, freak.”_

And so, he silently walked the halls and sat silently in his classes; he never rose his hand or answered his name in roll-call. He had no friends, and he wanted to keep it that way. The less people that noticed him, the better. New students would come and go, drawn to the supposed attractiveness of his face, but put-off by his strangeness, by his complete and utter silence. He was bait for bullies, for snide comments thrown his way. The only thing that kept him from snapping, _the only thing_ that stopped him was the fact that if they did this to him, maybe then they’d leave the new boy, Moon Bin, alone.

Bin had arrived a week ago, transferring from a private school up north, moving to Seoul along with the rest of his family. Dongmin had first seem him surrounded by school faculty and staff, shaking his hand and giving him timetables and maps and a guide to using his locker. Dongmin hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of his face, but his shoulders were broad in his button-up, and his legs were long and muscular in his trousers. From behind, Dongmin could tell he was athletic; he could tell his dark hair – plum in some lights, navy in others, brown in most – was incredibly soft. Dongmin felt his throat go dry, admiring the way the boy stood, relaxed and comfortable in his skin, before hurrying away to his next class.

 

***

 

Dongmin didn’t see him for the rest of the day, but he _heard_ about him. In Chemistry, his lab partner was a short but fluorescent character, Myungjun, or MJ for short. His hair was thick and curly, and wispy at the top, like he had only just crawled out of bed, but somehow it _worked_. The unpredictability of it, combined with his often- _outrageous_ fashion choices, _suited_ him. No one really understood why MJ had chosen Dongmin as his lab partner at the start of the year; initially they thought MJ was looking for a fight, but Dongmin was inclined to believe it was to feed his curiosity, to see what the mute boy was really like. But if that were the case, MJ never showed it. He was more than kind to him in class, and outside of class when they had to work on assignments together, but they never associated outside the parameters of their chemistry class.

MJ was talking rapidly to the two boys in front of them – Jin Jin, a boy of MJ’s height and stature, but slightly more subdued with his appearance; and Minhyuk, _Rocky,_ a much quieter and reserved student of average height and perfect posture, fitting for a prodigal dancer. From what Dongmin had observed – which he’s found, over time, is actually quite a lot – they’d been best friends since children, meeting Yoon Sanha – now Rocky’s boyfriend – when they entered high school. Dongmin knew very little of Sanha, other than the fact he was younger than the rest of them, but twice as smart; his hair changed colour every week, and his clothing choices were a mix of street wear and dungarees and Dongmin found him to be the most unpredictable of the lot.

MJ was bent over his desk, inching closer to his best friends, and although Dongmin had acquired an outstanding auditory sense, he still struggled to grasp all his words. He didn’t miss the words, _Moon Bin,_ though, or _senior,_ or the way Rocky had noticed Bin holding himself similar to the way he did, so perhaps he was a dancer, too. They said his eyes were a dark, chocolatey brown, his skin so smooth (“ _we need to find out what face wash he uses, seriously_ ”), and lips plump and curled upwards. They decided that he was _unfairly_ handsome, and that Rocky and Sanha’s chances at Hottest Couple were going to be severely wounded should Bin start dating.

 

***

 

It was the next day, halfway through lunch, that Dongmin saw his face for the first time. The boys weren’t lying: he _was_ ridiculously handsome. He wanted to point out that perhaps handsome was underrating the boy, _man,_ in front of him. Beautiful was much more fitting. He was a creature somewhere between soft and sexy and pretty, and as soon as Dongmin felt he had settled on one, he’d catch sight of something else about him that would make him change his mind. Bin’s eyes were scattering around the lunch room, hands grasping his lunch bag for dear life. Dongmin knew that look well: he was nervous. Being a new kid meant nowhere to sit at lunch unless you were obviously going to be an athlete, or star student, or, in Bin’s case, fucking _hot_. 

Dongmin wasn’t surprised when he saw Jin Jin call out to him, waving him over like long-time friends. Bin smiled, cheeks a pretty pink, and as he dropped down into one of the spare seats, Dongmin couldn’t help but watch his lips move as he introduced himself to the rest of the table. Dongmin was the _Weird Kid_ , so he was allowed to stare – people didn’t often question it, either, just added to the list of creepy and obscure things he did. But Bin didn’t know that, so when he saw his eyes flick over to his, as though sensing himself being watched, Dongmin quickly packed away his bag and tray, and almost ran from the room. He told himself the eyes he felt following him was just part of his imagination.

 

 

***

 

Dongmin walked across the grounds to his thrice-weekly hell: physical education. He wasn’t unfit by any means, but he wasn’t the sporty type either. His skin almost felt a size too small, stretching across his body, exposing too many ribs, _too_ much spine, and made it obvious to everyone around him how breakable and weak he really was. He sat his bag down on the bench in his usual spot of the changing room – the far back right corner, where torment could be heard but usually avoided. He changed quickly, pulling out his running shoes, and shoving his loafers into his bag.

As he was slipping the shoes on, a bag dropped down opposite him. And then a _body_ appeared beside it. And then the person’s hands were rummaging through their bag and pulling out their gear, stripping of their jeans and their shirt right before Dongmin’s very eyes. Dongmin briefly caught himself thinking back to Rocky’s words about Bin being a dancer, and by the look of his body up close, Dongmin thinks he was probably right. If Dongmin were able to speak, he’d have been made speechless – and since he already _was,_ his head began to feel cloudy and hazy, like he was watching the world through cling-film. Bin didn’t notice him watching, or if he had, he didn’t say anything. Dongmin wondered what it would be like to have confidence like that; be able to strip off and step into clothes languidly, without fear of judgement or torment.

For Dongmin, changing was a quick ordeal, a matter of life or death for him. For Bin, it looked like a moment to take a break from the world, to ease his muscles into moving again. Swallowing, Dongmin stood, but he moved too quickly, because as he did, his bag slipped off the bench and onto the floor, causing Bin to turn towards him. From a distance in the lunch room, he had been hot, beautiful, pretty, handsome, _everything,_ but up _close. Up close,_ he was exquisite – a piece of art, walking around mere mortals, and _Jesus Christ,_ Dongmin had never wanted to kiss someone before in his life until this very moment. Bin’s lips looked far too inviting for someone who had never kissed anymore before, and Dongmin could see those lips moving, could hear the words being spoken ( _“Hey, I’m Moon Bin. I’m new”)_ but he scurried out of the change room before he could be forced to respond.

 

Things like that continued for two weeks. He would notice Bin looking at him from across the hallway as he got his workbooks from his locker. And how he smiled at him when they changed next to each other before PE. And how Bin would watch him get onto his bus before getting into his own car when they day was finished. And how at lunch, Bin would always throw him a small wave across the room as he sat himself down beside MJ.

With all of this happening, Dongmin had come to a reasonable decision: he would try ignore Bin with all his might. He had learnt that Bin was far too kind to be real, and that someone as pure as he needed to be protected – being friendly to Dongmin would not give him any favours. Dongmin was the weird, mute kid, and Dongmin wasn’t even sure if Bin _knew_ that yet. Bin probably thought him rude, or snobby, and yet he continued to smile and wave as though they were best friends. Dongmin decided that in order to stop the assholes who had assisted in ruining his life would not get the chance to ruin Bin’s, too. Anyone who showed any kindness to Dongmin was often met with their own serving of torment, till the point where they pretended Dongmin had never existed in the first place. And no matter how badly Dongmin itched to spend time with Bin, to hear his voice, his laugh – he knew it was unfair of him to actually do so.

 

***

 

But it seemed life had it out for him. With a new week came a new chemistry assignment, and Dongmin cursed inwardly at the fact he would have to communicate with MJ again. It wasn’t that Dongmin didn’t like MJ – in fact, it was quite the opposite. It’s just communicating by texting or note passing often got tiring, especially when the patience of the other was visibly starting to wear thin. But, alas, when the teacher directed them to start planning and to talk amongst themselves for the remainder of the period, MJ turned to him. Grinning wickedly, as usual, MJ invited him over to his place to start working on it after school.

Another good thing about MJ, Dongmin had quickly learned, was that he like getting things done as soon as he could – whereas Jin Jin and Rocky were true procrastinators. Dongmin nodded, and turned to look through the handout the teacher had provided, brainstorming ideas to bring forth later. When the bell rang, he packed up his gear, stopping when a hand softly wrapped around his wrist. It was MJ.

“Meet me at the front gates after school.” Dongmin stared at him, mouth the tiniest bit agape: MJ had never reached out to him like this before.

“Alright?” MJ prompted.

Dongmin nodded, smiling back at him, before turning to leave for his math class.

When the final bell rang, Dongmin dragged his feet towards the front gate. Going home with MJ also meant he had to ride with all of his friends. MJ had picked up a battered-old van from an auto-wreckers a few years back after he learnt to drive, and his Dad – being a mechanic – patched her up so he could drive himself and his mates to and from school. Dongmin loved the van; it had character, and was loud and because it was always full, he never felt guilty about not speaking, or feeling responsible for uncomfortable silences. But as he turned the corner towards the gates, he realised he was making a bee-line for Bin, too.

 _Of course,_ Dongmin thought. _Bin was one of them now._

All six of them could fit comfortably, and although the closeness of all the people around him did make his heart rate increase and his palms a little sweaty, it somehow calmed him down, too. He climbed in after Sanha and Rocky, the latter holding his boyfriend’s hands, pressing insistent pecks all of his face, making him squeal.

“Oi!” MJ yelled, “none of that shit in here!” Rocky pressed one last, sloppy, wet kiss to Sanha’s lips before pulling away completely, asking Jin Jin – who _always_ rode shotgun without needing to call shotgun, to turn the music up.

Bin had slipped in after Dongmin, and while Dongmin thought he’d fall into the back seat alone, he sat down right beside him. This close together, their thighs were touching, and even relaxed Dongmin could feel the strength behind them.

MJ met Dongmin’s eyes in the mirror, and he smiled wide. “Binnie boy, have you met our Dongmin?”

Dongmin blushed violently. _Their Dongmin?_ Bin chuckled beside him, and Dongmin could feel it rumble through his chest.

“We have, yeah.” And _then._ “But he would never tell me his name. It’s lovely to meet you _Dongmin._ ”

Dongmin could feel the moment his face fell; his expression dropping from a toothy smile to one of devastation. This was the moment he dreaded most. The moment of awkwardness where no one knew what to say, Dongmin unable to say anything at all, and then someone breaks the silence with nothing in particular and its never again mentioned.  He caught MJ’s eyes again in the mirror, as MJ slowed down at a red light. Despite the radio playing, there was a thread of awkwardness in the air.

MJ opened his mouth, perhaps attempting to break it, but Rocky beat him there. “Min has selective mutism.”

His voice wasn’t condescending or cruel in any way, both comforting to Dongmin himself, and in order to not make Bin feel bad for his earlier comment. Dongmin ducked his head, refusing to acknowledge anything, refusing to meet eyes with anyone.

“Oh,” Bin said, somewhat dumbly.

“Yeah, Bin, you’re not special – he hates all of us!”  Dongmin huffed, looking up at them in the car, turning red as he laughed silently along with the rest of them.

That night, after MJ had driven him home from his place, Dongmin got ready for bed quickly – eyes droopy and legs weak. He smiled to himself, thinking back to Rocky’s earlier comment in the car about his silence, his _mutism._ He knew that someone _would_ know what it was, but he never realised the group would know that was what he _had_ , and would be able to acknowledge it as a real condition without harm. And Bin had handled it carefully. When MJ pulled up to his house, Bin bid farewell to everyone, but his hand hesitated on the door handle.

He turned back to Dongmin quickly, red-cheeked, and said “Good-bye, Dongmin. See you in PE tomorrow,” and ducked out of the door only after Dongmin had nodded to him in acknowledgement.

 

***

 

PE was starting to become one of Dongmin’s favourite classes. He got to spend time with Bin, and learn more about him – and what he learned was that he didn’t _shut up._ Even if Dongmin did speak, he’d never get a word in around Bin.

He chatted _endlessly_.

Whether it was about his classes or his family, or about the strange Netflix documentaries he had been binging, or random facts he had read somewhere, Bin spoke enough for the both of them. Bin was able to make Dongmin blush so damn easily, just by looking at him, or sending him a wink in the hallways. In the change room, Dongmin got to see the boy shirtless and in _shorts_ and he got to see the confidence of the boy grow larger and larger as he fell into step in the new school. The comments of being the new kid slowly fizzled away, as did Dongmin’s plans of avoiding the boy entirely. He was too addictive, like a sour lolly – sweet and sugary at first, but then all of a sudden _sour,_ but no less delicious. He craved more.

Which was why when Bin had started to meet him outside his final classes for the day, and walk him towards his bus, that Dongmin didn’t protest. Today he listened to Bin ramble about the new Stranger Things series, something Dongmin himself had yet to stream much to Bin’s dismay, and Dongmin listened intently with a smile. Bin stopped talking when they got to the bus terminal, and turned to face him slowly.

Dongmin could tell he was hesitant, mouth opening and closing as though he were wanting to ask a question but unsure _how._ “Can I—” he stopped short, frowning.

Then he opened his mouth again, but quickly shut it. Cocking his head, Dongmin reached out to Bin’s face, tapping his cheek slightly, as if to ask him, _what’s up?_ Blushy and soft, Bin snatched at Dongmin’s fingers, holding them in his own. Dongmin’s heart beat thumped rapidly in his chest; it beat so fast, Dongmin feared he was going to have a heart attack. _He’s holding my hand…_

“Can I have your number?”

The way he asked it, voice small and shy, Dongmin realised _he_ was nervous. _Bin_ was nervous to ask for _his_ number. And then Dongmin realised that _Bin wants my number._ Dongmin fish-mouthed himself for a few moments, before seeing Bin’s expression dropping, and he quickly nodded. Bin was biting his lip, smiling cutely, Dongmin noticed, when he was handed his phone, opened at the contact list. Dongmin quickly entered his details before handing it back.

“Thanks, Minnie” And with that, Bin dropped his hand, and Dongmin quickly clambered aboard his bus before he could say anything more.

 

***

 

He was steel reeling from his high of interacting with Bin, from the handholding, to the was Bin was blushing. _Could he really be blushing because of me?_ Despite giving out his number, Dongmin was still surprised to hear his phone vibrate on his bedside table that night. Putting aside his pen and math homework, he snatched at his phone.

 

**_Unknown number_ **

_10: 21 Hey Dongmin, this Moon Bin.  
10: 21 From school_

_10: 21 We have PE together? I got your number from you today_

_  
_ Dongmin squealed to himself, but it was more just a rush of air from between his lips. His face was beetroot red, he could feel the heat on his cheeks and ears, and even as low as his neck.

 

**_New contact created: Bin_ **

_10:22 Yes, I remember. Hi Bin :)_

 

**_Bin_ **

_10: 22 oh good!_

_10: 22 how are you?_

 

Dongmin’s cheeks were beginning to hurt, and he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop smiling. He had an inkling, however. He’d read about it, heard of it, of course he had. He’d heard of these little inconvenient things called _crushes._ He’d just never experienced one. But God, he thinks this is what this is, what he’s feeling. Bin hasn’t said anything remotely flirty or outwardly cute, but Dongmin has already tried to see what his name would sound like with his freaking _last night_ like some high school romance film from the 90’s, and _shit_ , Dongmin wants to see him in a tux and a crown at the school dance.

 

_10: 22 I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?_

He bit his lip for a moment. Did he sound too formal? He quickly typed out another message and his send.

_10:23 finally settled in, new boy?_

 

**_Bin_ **

_10: 24 I’m doing well too, thank you for asking <3 And yessss, I think I have! We’ve finally unpacked the last box of our stuff into our house, and my locker is already a mess at school – so I think that’s a good sign?_

 

_10: 25 hahaha, yes Binnie, that is a good sign._

He hesitated again. Typed out what he was thinking, hit send before he could second-guess it.

_10:25 I’m really glad you moved here_

 

**_Bin_ **

_10: 27 oh Min <3 <3 <3 I am so glad I moved here too! It wasn’t actually a decision I agreed to at first, but I’m glad I was easily convinced. _

_10: 28 what are you up to tonight?_

Dongmin tried to settle _his_ heart upon being sent three from Bin. He pleaded with the world to make sure things weren’t weird when they saw each other tomorrow.

 

_10: 29 I have to say, it’s quite an uneventful night for me. I’m just finishing up the math homework for tomorrow_

 

His reply came only a second later, and sent Dongmin into a fit of giggles as he threw his phone away for the night.

 

**_Bin_ **

_10:29 fuck shit what_

_10: 29 we had math homework?_

_10:29 shit shit shit_

_10:29 DONGMIN WHY DIDN’T YOU MENTION THIS EARLIER_

_10:29 pray for me Minnie I’m going in_

_10:29 if you don’t see me tomorrow, have MJ come save me at my house_

_10:29 report back later_

_10:30 fuck_

***

Dongmin had a few bullies – people who teased him constantly, and their names stuck out to him. There was one person in particular, though, who hurt him more than any of the rest. _Jung-Yoon._ Dongmin had known him since he was little.

They first met in kindergarten, although Dongmin remembers very little of him from those times. It was in primary school where the bullying first began, and Jung-Yoon became very memorable. At first, he was bullied for being skinnier and smaller than the rest – and because he was shy, he was an easy target. This had just escalated over time, developing into some sort of fetish for the boy, almost. Dongmin couldn’t keep track of what the bullying itself was about; some days it was about his clothes, or his face, the rest was because of his disorder.

Although there was a lot of things Dongmin would give in order for the bullying to _stop,_ it was something he was used to – in fact, he was almost certain that if it all stopped, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Jung-Yoon had one blessing, however. He had matured _slightly_ , and had outgrown his punching and beating stage. Instead of cruelty with his hands, he was cruel with his tongue.

Which was why first thing in the morning, when Jung-Yoon called him a ‘ _gay little bitch’_ he didn’t take much notice. Bin, though, at his side, definitely did. Dongmin could sense the moment he registered that it was directed towards him. Bin hadn’t really been exposed to this side of his life just yet, having only been properly acquainted for a few weeks, and never had they really bumped into each other so early in the morning.

Just as Dongmin had stepped off the bus, Bin was waiting at the station with two cups of takeaway coffee, one for each of them, and a breakfast muffin to share (Dongmin had smiled widely, offered a tiny bow of his head in thanks. Bin was obviously well aware of what was being said, he had grasped the basics of Dongmin’s movements and actions during the short time of their friendship, so he just shrugged and said “I work at the drive through coffee shop down near my house, so it’s easy for me to just duck in and grab something.” Bin was obviously making it not a big deal, and even though it wasn’t, Dongmin’s butterflies still flapped wildly in his stomach). Bin linked his arm through his as they drank their coffees and ate their share of the muffin, and while Bin talked through his mouthfuls of food, Dongmin just listened.

Today he was rambling about Australia, a country neither of them had ever visited, but both very much wanted to see. He had read some articles last night, and couldn’t believe it when he found out “ _it would take 27 years Minnie – yes, years – to see every beach in Australia, if you visited a new one every damn day. Can you believe that? That’s so many beaches_!” and that “ _over 90% of the country is still covered in native vegetation!_ ” and was particularly amazed at the fact that “ _female kangaroos have three vaginas_ – _three Dongmin. Three.”_

Dongmin just smiled through his rant, bumping his shoulder against Bin’s whenever he said anything particularly funny, and Bin had quickly learnt that this was his way of saying, “ _oh my fucking, God, Bin, shut the fuck up._ ”

It just so happened, as Dongmin bumped Bin’s shoulder, _again,_ and Bin cackled loudly in his ear, That Jung-Yoon walked past and made his comment. Bin stopped walking, making Dongmin stumble, but Bin’s spare arm flew out on instinct and steadied him.

Dongmin saw his eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and the way that his head cocked to the side in recognition. Just as he opened his mouth, and began to turn to Jung-Yoon’s disappearing figure, Dongmin’s hand thrust out and covered his mouth. He shook his head at him repeatedly, beginning him not to start anything.

Bin just stared at him with disbelief. “Did you hear what he just said to you?”

Dongmin did nothing; he was so sure his expression hadn’t changed, but perhaps Bin was observant, and took that as a “ _yes, I heard him_.”

“Fuck, Minnie. Does this happen a lot?”

Their arms were still looped together, but Bin’s other hand was clutched around his waist. Dongmin was finding it hard to breath at the comfort of it, and from the warmth he was radiating. He just shrugged at him, hoping he understood that, _yeah,_ it happened a lot, but it wasn’t a big deal anymore.  But Bin looked more defeated than he ever had, and he was the one who was bullied and beaten and abused. That look, the narrowing of his eyes and the drop of his lips, made his stomach churn unpleasantly, and Dongmin swore to himself in that moment he would do everything he could to always back Bin smile again.

 

***

 

The rest of the week was eventful.

Bin would walk him to and from his classes, and he’d walk him to the bus or even – on some occasions – to MJ’s car when they worked on their assignment again. He’d bring them coffee in the morning, and Dongmin had actually taken to baking some breakfast treats himself and bringing them along, too. Bin had found this particularly exciting, the fact that Dongmin would _bake,_ and _cook,_ and invited himself over for dinner at some point. Dongmin didn’t refuse, just nodded and tucked his head in on himself to hide his growing blush. Bin would text him the minute he got home, making sure Dongmin was home safe, too.

They’d text well into the evening – some nights about nothing important, others about their past, their dreams and their future aspirations. But Dongmin never told him about his step father, and they never spoke about his mutism either. Dongmin knew Bin’s curiosity must be eating him alive, wanted to know when it had all started. But Dongmin was terrified of the consequences of him knowing the truth. People got uncomfortable around other people’s vulnerability, especially _his,_ and he didn’t want to lose Bin. He couldn’t lose the one best friend he’d ever had, and ever wanted. So, he didn’t. They avoided the subject easily, and when things got a bit too close for comfort, Bin quickly started to ramble on and _on_ about some pointless content that occupied Dongmin’s mind far too fondly to be normal.

Almost two weeks after Bin witnessed Jung-Yoon’s words to Bin, things got worse than normal. Bin was off sick one day – little sister caught the flu from her primary school, and had, in turn, infected Bin – and Dongmin was dreading getting out of bed himself. He knew there’d be no one with coffee, and there’d be no one walking him to and from classes. No one to give his extra baking to. But he did; he dragged himself out and climbed onto the bus as wordlessly as ever, and prayed that the day would go quick, and that Bin’s recovery would be quicker. But world didn’t listen to him today, because from the moment he got off the bus, things hadn’t gone his way.

The strap of his satchel broke on the pavement, spilling his things everywhere; and where if this had been a romance film, a gorgeous guy would have helped him, but this wasn’t, so people just laughed and kicked them away from him. So, carrying around a broken satchel all day, followed by a locker that decided _not to work_ anymore, and realising he had left his lunch at home, all came to its breaking point when Jung-Soon and his group corned him on his way to chemistry. He felt the shift in attitude.

Normally, they were teasing; flicking ear and taking his things, and tugging on his clothes. But this time they were angry. Angry like the earlier days, when they’d beat him and shove his head in the toilet. Although it had been a while since his last beating, Dongmin knew what to expect next. Jung-Yoon’s fist was stronger than he remembers as it collided with his jaw, and while he yelped in pain, knees collapsing beneath him, Jung-Yoon felt no pain himself.

He hit him again, all the while he was muttering something over and over, but Dongmin couldn’t pin point his words, couldn’t hear clearly enough, because skin hitting skin made a lot of noise, especially when the taste of bile was rising in your throat and your palms were sweating and your brain was rolling around in your skull and your breathing erratic and uneven. He couldn’t get enough _oxygen_ , he felt like his throat was closing up, suffocating himself.

As he well and truly fell to the floor, the cheap linoleum that was foot-scuffed and pulling up at the edges, the punching stopped, but the words lingered on in the air long enough for him to catch them before they disappeared down the hall.

_Gay fucking faggot, we’ll kill you and your precious boyfriend._

***

He knew he had to move – had to get up, to the bathroom, check out his injuries. He could taste the blood from his lip seep into his mouth, and groaned – both from the pain and the inconvenience. Having to explain the beating again to his mum was going to be _hell,_ and she’d want to call the school again and talk about them stopping the bullies in their system.

His lip was split, and he could feel his left eye beginning to swell, and he was contemplating death when he heard running footsteps – two people, maybe three? and a panicked voice muttering a “ _fuck, fuck, fuck, shit_ ” as they dropped down on the linoleum beside him, and then a different voice, deeper this time, saying “ _I’ll call Bin_ ,” and _why were they calling Bin?_

Dongmin started to wonder how long he had been lying on the tiles for, surely on a few minutes?

He was so _dizzy_ and was grateful when another voice – three people, then – said “I’ll grab the nurse” and ran off in the direction of the school clinic. Hands were cradling the back of his head, and the side of his stomach, as they helped him into an upright position. His eyes were still closed, and the voice beside him spoke softly.

“Min, I know you’re hurting right now,” the voice was very familiar, dancing on the edge of his consciousness, “but can you _please_ open your eyes for me?” 

He wanted to protest; he wanted to shake his head and lay back down and go to sleep. Sitting up, everything was spinning, and everything hurt more. But he _knew_ he had to; had to show that he didn’t have a concussion, that he was still functioning correctly. When he yanked them open, he gasped, the lights overhead not helping with his headache. He snapped them away, to his side, where MJ was sitting, worriedly biting his lip. _MJ?_

Just then, Jin Jin rounded the corner with the nurse, who he’d been thankful not to have to see for a very long time. _The other voice must have been Rocky._ Then he thought, _why weren’t they in class? They had chemistry this period._

The nurse helped him to his feet with the assistance of MJ, and they walked him down towards the clinic on the next floor down. His head was spinning, and he could hear himself groaning, could taste his own blood far too liberally. He hated its metallic taste, reminded him far too much of his stepfather, of his head colliding with glass plates and bats and benchtops and doors. His breathing was unsteady, he could hear it in his own ears, and people were muttering things around him but he couldn’t hear them. Everything was so loud around him, but it was too quiet at the same time, and he recognised this particular flavour of panic on his tongue.

In the clinic, the smell was sterile, and was almost comforting. Sterile generally meant safe, and it pulled Dongmin out of his darkening head space. The nurse was still relatively new, her name unfamiliar, but she worked quickly and with a steady, but gentle, hand. She gave him paracetamol and ibuprofen for the swelling and the pain, pressed an icepack his head, and was applying antiseptic to his split lip. Things were hazy still, but less chaotic.

 He could make sense of his surroundings and could see Rocky, Jin Jin and MJ on the bench over by the door. The latter was nervously biting his lip, and Rocky was checking his phone every few seconds. At that moment, Dongmin remembers Rocky saying that he was calling Bin. _But why?_ The nurse pulled away, pulling off her gloves and throwing away the cotton pads.

“Take it easy, okay? I’ll give you some antiseptic to apply for the next few nights. Use ice for the swelling, okay?”

Dongmin nodded, and was just about to push himself up off the table when the door slammed back on his hinges. _Bin._ Dongmin was startled to say the least, but Bin’s three friends more so. The nurse had already ducked out the room, carefully eyeing the new student in the room, but paying no real mind to their commotion. Bin didn’t even notice the other three in the room, or if he had, he hadn’t acknowledged them. He just sauntered past them and straight into Dongmin’s personal space, slipping between his legs like he belonged there, and Dongmin couldn’t stop himself blushing at how it felt to have Bin between his legs like this, the warmth of him and the smell of him in his senses. Dongmin would love it if Bin _did_ belong there.

 He felt calmer at once, but winced when Bin reached out and touched above his eyebrow, where he knew a purple bruise was forming. His other hand reached up next, brushing at his hair, holding his head slightly and tilting side to side, inspecting his wounds, his bruises, and it wasn’t until Bin locked eyes with his that he noticed he was close to crying. Instinctively, Dongmin reached out to him, stomach fluttering from the hands on his face, and at the way he could _feel_ Bin’s breath on his lips. Dongmin dragging his fingers down the side of Bin’s face, wiped away a stray tear, and shook his head the tiniest amount he could muster without teasing his headache further.

 

Bin shook his head back, and swooped forward towards him, and Dongmin’s brain stopped working when he felt his lips press to his bruised cheek, so lightly he was sure he dreamed it. But then he kissed again, and again, until he had kissed every part of his bruised, swelling face, and until Dongmin was on the table crying silently into Bin’s shoulder.

 

***

 

Bin demanded that he drive him home, as he had driven as soon as he got the call from Rocky. Dongmin wanted to ask Bin how he was feeling, he had the _flu_ for Christ’s sake, and he was here, kissing his face and holding his hand, wrapping his arm around his waist and holding him deliciously close. Dongmin looked at him over his shoulder now, could see the slight sweat forming on his forehead, the black bags under his eyes, but my _god,_ he was still so beautiful to him. He was the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, and despite the bruises on his face and the pain radiating off his body, he had never felt happier.

Bin opened his passenger door for him, helped him into the seat before thanking the others and got into the driver’s side. Bin said nothing as he drove, and the radio wasn’t playing, so Dongmin felt the heaviness of the silence, and he was sure Bin could, too. It wasn’t awkward, per se, but there was questioned unasked and unanswered, but all Dongmin wanted was to wrap himself up in Bin’s arms, have him kiss him again, but this time on his lips – despite them being split and bleeding, too – and love him, _God,_ love _him. Love the boy._

When the car stopped, Dongmin looked out the window. They were at Bin’s place, and Dongmin was thankful. He didn’t have the energy to explain to his mum right now what had happened. He would send her a text saying he was at a friend’s place, and that he’d check in with her tomorrow. Bin helped him out of the car, and up the front steps to his house.

He pushed the front door open – “I didn’t even think about locking it when Rocky called” – and led him to his room.

It was a large space, filled with photographs and drawings and awards that he recognised as the awards he had been told about before for his dancing and singing. There was a small desk in the corner with his laptop and printer, a book shelf beside it overflowing with old, well-read paperbacks, and a double bed on the far back wall underneath the window. It was crowded and loud and eccentric, just like Bin, and Dongmin loved it. He felt safe, comfortable, and he found that dangerous all in itself. Bin guided him to his bed, sat him down on the edge of it.

Dongmin was blushing, but Bin didn’t question it, just smiled at him and undid his shoes. He slapped his hands away when Dongmin tried to do it himself, then he pushed him farther up the bed so his head was on Bin’s pillows, and his body covered by the navy throw on the end. Dongmin didn’t know what to do with himself when Bin kicked his own shoes off, slipped in beside him. Dongmin had expected this to feel _weird._ They were friends, yes, Bin was Dongmin’s best friend – but he didn’t think he was Bin’s best friend. But maybe he was? The way Bin was tugging at his waist, turning him around so his back was flush against Bin’s chest indicated a closeness that normal friends didn’t have. But was this what best friends did? _Did best friends spoon?_

He was thankful that Bin couldn’t see his face, because he could feel Bin’s lips drag along the back of his neck, where it was exposed above his shirt but below his hairline, and his skin was ready to catch fire.

Then he whispered, so silently he wasn’t sure he had heard it right, “if your lip weren’t busted, I’d kiss you to sleep.”

He caught fire, and dreamt of lips and of dark chocolate and of _Bin._

 

***

 

Bin wasn’t in bed when he woke up in the morning. But the sheets were still warm, and in the place of his body there was a yellow post-it note.

 

_Come downstairs :)._

Smiling to himself, he pushed aside the blankets, wincing at the sight of his legs in his jeans and day-old t-shirt. But he had nothing else to change into, and judging from the time on his phone, they only had an hour before their firsts classes started for the day. That was if Bin was even going. Or himself. For the most part, his face felt fine – still puffy, maybe, but it didn’t ache nearly as much as it had the night before. He slept a long time, from two pm till now, and his head felt heavy because of it – and catching sight of himself in the mirror confirmed his suspicions of dark purple bruising along the left side of his face. His lip looked back though – red and swollen, and purplish too, and beneath the tiny bandage he could see it starting bleed again. He sighed, shutting his eyes as he released the puff of air, but then trotted downstairs.

Dongmin knew that Bin was not a morning person – Bin himself had told him this hundreds of times, and was often said each morning when he was handed his coffee. So, to see Bin awake and ready and _cooking pancakes_ over the stove, he was outright stunned. He thought back to his words last night, about his busted lip and wanting to kiss him to sleep, and Dongmin felt red all over. Bin heard him enter, turned towards him, shutting off the heat of the stove.

“Good morning!”

He was lively, Dongmin noticed, more so than usual. He walked towards him, with purpose, and kissed him on the forehead, just as gently as the day before. Dongmin was already red, but he felt himself turned redder.

“I made pancakes!” He said as he turned around on his heel, getting two plates from the cupboard.

The morning went by too quickly, both boys rushed to get ready. Bin leant Dongmin some fresh clothes and a toothbrush, and they were on their way. Bin claimed that he felt cured of his flu, and that “I think you cured me, Minnie. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you cured me for sure.”

It seemed that it was Bin’s life purpose to make Dongmin blush – if so, he was succeeding.

 

***

 

The thing is, everything had changed from that point on. For the rest of the week, Bin would be constantly touching him. Not that Dongmin minded, but he wasn’t sure how to process it. If he wasn’t holding his hand, he was kissing his cheeks, or in one mortifyingly attractive instance, his neck; and if he wasn’t doing that, he was hugging him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist, and pulling him to his chest. Dongmin would giggle – _giggle_ – and hide behind his hands, but that would only make Bin coo louder and kiss him _faster._ Dongmin didn’t know what it was, but he loved it, despite knowing that he shouldn’t.

But his relationship with Bin wasn’t all that changed – so did his relationship with MJ, Jin Jin, Rocky and Sanha. Since the fight, they had wrapped him up under their wings, and he had been included in everything since. For chemistry class rambles, he actually used his notebook to write notes and his input to things, had even made them laugh on several occasions, and joined them for lunch every day. He was in a _group chat_ and MJ picked him up and dropped him home every day, just like _one of the boys._ Dongmin had friends, he had a best friend, a pretty boy who kissed him and called him beautiful and held his hands, and all of them told him secrets and stories and he felt _wounded_ all over again. He hated the fact that he was mute and couldn’t speak to them and say everything he wanted to say. He wanted to thank them for being so kind to him and for being his friend and for the first time is life making him feel included and _wanted._ Like he had every right to be there, right where he was, under Bin’s arm, under their watchful eye.

 

***

 

The moment when Dongmin decides to tell Bin about his past – about his stepfather and his mutism, took place in the lunchroom. Bin was running a little late to the table, but when did, Dongmin instantly noticed the bruising on his knuckles. He grabbed his hand out of instinct – something they always did now, hold hands – and raised his eyebrows at the beautiful boy in question. Bin shrugged at him, and glanced at the rest of the boy’s curious eyes.

“It was nothing, I’m clumsy in the mornings,” he brushed it aside with a brisk laugh and a kiss to Dongmin’s forehead, before halving his chocolate croissant with him (“Oi, where’s ours?” “I like him better!”)

That afternoon, as he was heading out to meet Bin at the van, he saw Jung-Yoon. That was the moment he decided to tell Bin. Because Jung-Yoon had a bruised lip and face, and Moon Bin had punched him because he had punched Dongmin.

 

When they climbed under Bin’s blankets that night, with intentions of watching “ _something mindless, Minnie”_ on Netflix, he’s sure this wasn’t what Bin had in mind. Dongmin had pulled a notebook out of his schoolbag, and a pen from the bedside table, which Bin knew straight away meant something important was needing to be said. Normally Dongmin would text Bin if he had something to say, but notebooks were strictly _serious business._ So, Bin shut his laptop, and waited patiently for him to stop writing. It took a while – Dongmin covered everything from the earliest moments of being bullied to the introduction of stepfather, to the beatings at home and in school, to the threats of being quiet, to the silence taking over him. He wrote everything, and he wrote it all in detail, and when he was done, he gave it to Bin without meeting his eyes.

He took a while to read it, and when Dongmin noticed he had started to cry, he leant against him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. He could feel the occasional tear hitting his skin, and felt Bin’s hand reach up and wipe away his tears. When he was done, he pushed the note aside, and grabbed Dongmin in his arms. Dongmin was overwhelmed with emotion, from writing it, to feeling Bin’s reaction to it, so the kisses placed all of his face – everywhere but his still-split lip – made him snap.

They both sobbed into each other, and for every kiss Bin placed, Dongmin gave him one back. It was wet and snotty and _gross,_ but neither of them noticed, because they were far too deep in whatever this was to care about anything else other than the way they felt underneath each other’s hands, how they wanted to keep each other safe, the love they felt for each other, whether it was platonic or not. This was _love;_ Dongmin’s crush was no longer that. Dongmin was in love with him, and my _God,_ he wanted Bin to love him back.

With all these kisses, and the way he’d been treated by him lately, Dongmin could almost imagine that he did.

 

***

 

The next day, Bin was as soft as ever – the kisses continued, just as they had before, but this time there were more of them, and from more people, too. Dongmin had told the others what he had told Bin, in a little less detail, but the reaction was just about the same.

Sanha and MJ cried (Rocky did, too, but he was adamant that he didn’t) and Jin Jin was _angry._ His hands were shaking and he was pent-up for the rest of the week. Dongmin hadn’t told them who had beaten him last time, but Bin had – Jung-Yoon hadn’t bothered him again, not since Bin had taken his fist to him.

By the time Friday rolled around, Dongmin’s lip was well and truly healed. He no longer needed a bandage, and there was no trace of what had happened. He applied a little antiseptic and chap-stick to be safe just as he heard MJ toot outside. Dongmin was the closest to the school, so was always picked up last, but he always had a spot next to Binnie no matter what. He yelled goodbye to his mum and pulled the front door closed, hurrying down the steps to the van – vibrating with music that his neighbours surely disapprove of hearing each morning.

MJ rolled the window down, whistling when he saw him. Dongmin looked down at himself, fearing he had forgotten something. But alas, found nothing missing. He was wearing his usual oversized sweater and jeans and vans, but MJ was smirking at him like he was in his underwear.

“Your lips healed,” he said matter-of-factly.

Dongmin shrugged, touching his lips. But there was suddenly silence in the van. Someone had turned the music off, and he could see Bin lean over the centre console. He saw his lips moving, and then MJ repeated “his lips healed” to him.

And then it was all happening at once.

The van’s sliding door was pulled open dangerously fast (ignoring MJ’s “Hey! Careful, she’s elderly!”) and Bin stumbled out haphazardly, almost tripping over his own feet in an attempt to get to Dongmin quicker. Dongmin instinctively stepped backwards, into the concrete fence, and with nowhere to go, had to suffer through the two seconds it took for Bin to get to him. No words were said – for once, Bin was silent, no stupid trivia or animal-facts sprouting from his mouth – and pressed his hands either side of his head against the wall, and pressed his lips against his, _hard._ Dongmin didn’t know to react at first.

This was his first kiss. _His first kiss._ And it was _Bin_.

The boy he fucking loved, would take another beating for, _do_ the beating for. He was sure he was the love of his life, and he was being kissed by him. For having an audience, the kiss sure was sensual – there was tongue and Bin was moaning as Dongmin scratched at the back of his neck, his hair, and they ignored the blaring horn and wolf whistles coming from behind them.

They pulled away for a second, to breath, and for Bin to whisper out a “ _fucking finally,”_ to him, before pressing his body closer to him again, chest and hips completely flushed.

Dongmin was hyper aware of both the feeling of his trousers tightening, and of Bin’s, and of the groans of disgust from their friends. But Bin seemed to pay no mind. He just kissed him harder, deeper, hand inching down his side, towards his arse, towards his—

“Alright! Enough!”

There were hands yanking Bin off of him, his eyes snapping open to a wild Rocky and Sanha.  There were laughs coming from MJ and Jin Jin, and harmless teasing for the rest of the day.

 

***

 

After school, they went to Bin’s place as usual. Dongmin had grown accustomed to MJ just dropping him home there without needing to be asked, and today as they walked up to his door, they tooted and Dongmin flushed violently at the rude hand gestures they were throwing their way. Dongmin _had_ met Bin’s parents, after finally asking him where they were and why he was always alone. Today it seemed they were working on one of their _away_ trips, as Bin had called it. 

Still blushing from the car ride, he walked into Bin’s room, only to hear the door slam, and have himself pushed back up against it. Bin’s lips were on his in an instant, one hand wrapped around his face, the other on his waist. The kiss was a continuation of this morning, starting where they had left of, and Bin had a way of making Dongmin squirm and whine into his mouth with the simplest touch. Dongmin had never been kissed like this before – never been kissed before bin, even. He never imagined it could feel like this; this electric, this intense and heavy and _hot._ He was so in love with this boy, he didn’t know how he _lived_ before he came along. He felt fumbling hands slide down around his arse, heaving him upwards, and with a squeal, Dongmin had no choice but to wrap his legs around Bin’s waist. He was giggling against his lips as Bin carried them backwards, in the direction of his bed, and where there was usually nerves in Dongmin’s stomach, all there was, was love. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was excited to find out.

 

***

 

If the boys noticed the slight limp in Dongmin’s step the next day, they didn’t say anything. They didn’t say anything either whenever Bin kissed him against the side of the van every time they picked them up from separate houses. In fact, they never said anything about Bin and Dongmin. They just _were._ But Dongmin was uncertain – not of his feelings, or of Bin’s, but just in general. He was nervous by nature, and although he had finally enlisted into phycology and speech therapy, wanting to gain control of mutism, he wanted to be sure of what this was.

At lunch, the last day before a two-week break, Dongmin sat, as usual, silently. But this time he didn’t keep his head down.

His head was lifted, eyes smiling at Bin across from him; the usual stoic and rough Rocky all soft and cuddly with Sanha on his side, feeding him, and watching his lips and not the video Sanha was trying to show him; and MJ screeching and snorting at a photo Jin Jin was showing him; and Dongmin, watching on, realising that he five fucking _best friends_ who he loved to dearly and like nothing else before.

And they _loved him back_ , all so differently and all in their own ways.

MJ, in the way he does anything – picks him up, drops him home, being his lab partner. Jin Jin, who taught him self-defence, and how to really pack a punch. Sanha, who sat with him in the library for hours in silence just doing homework together. Rocky, showing him how to ballroom dance so he could surprise Bin with his skills at the end-of-year formal.

And Bin. _Bin._  

Bin who would show him his love for Dongmin in all the cliché ways Dongmin had dreamed. In kisses; and in soft _I love you’s_ against his skin in the morning, in accidental fingertip bruises on his hips, which he’d at first cried for leaving, but Dongmin later assured him that there were some bruises that he _loved_ ; in flowers every Wednesday morning, because he knew Dongmin hated having PE first thing; in the way he’d catch Bin staring at him, and see him dopey-eyed and soft and giggly.

He pulled his phone out, typed out the message, and sent it – just to be sure.

 

_12:34 will you be my boyfriend?_

 

He watches Bin’s face light up as he sees a text from him, and then watches it morph into confusion upon reading it. He quickly replies.

 

**_Bin_ **

_12:34_ I thought I already was?

 

All Dongmin could do was laugh.

 

(At the end of the year, when the yearbooks were released, Rocky and Sanha were pissed to find out that yes, they did in fact lose the title of _Hottest Couple_ ).

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello to me on tumblr!! [](http://www.magnusbanes.tumblr.com)


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